Three Words, Eight Letters
by Lemondropshots
Summary: "The course of true love never did run smooth." - Shakespeare. Our favourite pureblood prince, and headstrong bookworm, and a whole bunch of angst. Dare I say more? Post-war Dramione (side parings HxP, BxL, TNxAG) I'm really bad at summaries, but do take a chance. Three- shot
**_A Dramione uh three shot I'm thinking atm. for all you Dramione shippers out there. Because angsty Draco is everyone's favourite Draco it seems *Guilty as charged*_**

 ** _(Also hopefully this marks my somewhat productive return *cue sneaky blush* really inconvenient timing tbh what with me having only like some of the biggest exams of my life in a month but oh well)_**

 ** _Happy Reading guys. Bring some tissues for our beloved angsty prince. *Oh Draco you poor poor boy*_**

 _"_ _Alas, that love, so gentle in his view,_

 _Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof."_

 _\- William Shakespeare, Romeo & Juliet_

Draco Malfoy had never considered himself to be inherently evil. Cruel, perhaps. Monstrous most definitely. But evil? Never. Surrounded by beings that preyed off the agony and torment of others, his own father included, in comparison he could perhaps even consider himself a saint. And yet here he was now, staring at himself in the mirror, a pale face staring back at him, the skin under his eyes looking taught and grey, light reflecting of his platinum hair giving him the look of an angel.

He scoffed. An angel. Hell itself would chew him up and spit him out again right now, watching the red liquid drip down his knuckles, and pool into the spinning vortex of water created in the sink, new crimson beads blossoming at the tiny scars almost immediately from the fractured glass shards. Suddenly a few stray drops of water fell in, not from the sink, but rather to Draco's horror from his own eyes. Sneering at himself he switched the tap off and turned away, hastily rubbing his arm against his face hoping to dispel any signs that would make his mother feel worse about her predicament, and the pain she unwillingly caused him.

His mother, perhaps his final reason to live, with his father in prison for the crimes he'd so willingly done going as far as to sacrifice his own family, the responsibility for the only person who'd ever truly cared for him had been left in Draco's hands. His poor mother, curse-ridden and as tormented by the horrors of the past decade as he. With a murderer for a husband and a coward for a son.

Draco could still clearly recall that second in time a mere week after the war, when his father had been informed by the ministry of the rightful punishment that awaited him as the right-hand man of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He could recall clearly the panic, and madness that had overtaken the man who was so desperate not to return back to Azkaban that he was willing to destroy everything in his path. He could recall how his mother, his sweet gentle mother who'd done nothing but stay by his father's side through blood and fire attempted to calm the monster that had overtaken the man whom Draco could no longer bear to call his father. But most of all he could recall the exact moment when one of his father's darker spells had hit the stone mantlepiece and bounded off straight into his mothers heart, causing her to relive every horrible memory that she had witnessed. And how when Draco rushed to her side and took her head in his hands, he too was suddenly hit with all the things in his life he'd wished he could've unseen.

The weeks after that had been nothing but torture, as Draco had to impassively stand by as his father was dragged to Azkaban, screaming useless threats and pleading his innocence and cowardice. he'd had to witness hordes of articles that had come out following the accident labelling his father a "deranged madman" who "attacked his own wife". He'd gazed disinterestedly, and in a zombie-like manner signed the papers that the ministry put forth. Giving him the title of the Patriarch of the Malfoy Family, and how as the heir he inherited all the wealth and riches amassed by his family over centuries.

Something that did nothing to barricade the looks he received whenever he walked out in public, some of disgust some of anger, and worse, some of pity.

So he'd returned to Hogwarts, back to his own disgraced house and friends who seemed to understand but didn't know the truth. How every weekend he would visit his mother in the psychiatric ward, and keep a safe distance of two metres as instructed by the nurse who took care of her there, all the while wishing he could just curl up in her arms and seek the comfort only a mother could provide. And yet there were times like this when his mother would get up to do a simple act such as readjust the flowers on the vase on her bedside table only to go slightly weak at the knees, causing Draco to rush to her side and hold her up immediately, forgetting that he couldn't touch her without suffering the same fate as she. Having to remember everything he'd done under the name of what was supposed to be "the greater good". All the people he'd hurt, all the people who had hurt him, and all the anguished faces of those who had to suffer fates worse than death.

So here he was, wiping off any traces of his mini breakdown, the broken shards of glass glinting up at at him from the white tiled floor of the bathroom. The pain in his knuckles providing a sufficient numbness to the horrors he'd had to relive seconds prior.

And yet he was sure nothing could dispel the memory of the woman screaming and begging him, clutching at his legs. Before the slash that sprayed blood all over him, sending her body tumbling, with her head lolling at an unnatural position. The scream etched on her face, even in her last breath.

Taking the stairs two at a time, up to the astronomy tower was his usual pace, but today, his body felt like lead. Returning back here after everything that had happened, suddenly seemed wrong. But he needed to see her. To hold her. To get lost in her. She'd help him forget. She always did.

Opening the door, he watched as the creak alerted her to his arrival. Watched as she turned around, her chestnut locks swishing, hazel eyes previously encompassed in worry becoming relieved as she took him in. He managed to catch her in his arms just as she tumbled into them. Her hands holding him tightly, fingers pressed against his back, arms coocooning him in their warmth. He held her back just as tightly if not more, using her as his leverage. Burying his nose in her neck, smelling the comforting smell of fresh parchment and cool mint with hints of cherry. She smelled like home. Like redemption. And he knew that at the moment she could feel the wetness dripping from his eyes on her neck.

He felt her pulling away, he could see in his mind, her with a questioning look on her face, eyes anxious, she'd seen him come back many times before from these excursions, but never - never seen him shed a tear. Usually he'd just sit there silently with his head buried in her lap as she stroked his head and ran her fingers through his silky locks. But today she could feel something was different.

"Draco, what happened? What's wrong?" Her panicked voice sounded so off, she sounded so scared for him. But he didn't want to hear such a sorrowful sound fall from the lips of his angel. So he hushed her, silencing her questions further by pressing his lips to hers, slowly and then fast as their tongues battled for dominance. He could feel her pulling away from the passionate embrace again with hesitance on her face.

"Draco, please don't hide from me, I know something happened and I don't think that -"

He broke her off again with a soft kiss.

"Please Granger, I don't want to remember. Please let's just forget it okay? I just want you right now.

That's all and nothing else." His desperate tone tugged at her heartstrings, and he could see her resolve weaken, so he took his chance and pounced on her again descending on the soft flesh that lied below her chin making his way to he jugular and feeling her pulse beat rapidly like a butterflies wings under the grazing of his lips. Her thin fingers making their way up his chest, hastily untying the green and silver tie resting there and flinging it somewhere in the corner. Then making their way to the bottom of his white oxford shirt and slipping underneath.

The feel of the warm pads of her fingertips drove him mad as he squeezed her even tighter with one of his arms while the other made its way down her own school shirt slowly unbuttoning one by one. All the while neither of their lips losing their resolve as their lips met repeatedly. Hard then soft then hard again. But never any less passionate. Draco poured all his feelings into his touch. His desperateness, his anger, his sadness but most of all his need to forget. He hooked his thumbs in the waistline of her pleated skirt and gently squeezed the soft skin that laid there. Watching her body as it arched up towards him in impulse. He continued peppering kisses under her jawline her soft moans driving him mad.

And slowly as his lips began making their journey down the middle of her chest, between the valley of her breasts, he could feel her fingernails raking their way down his now bare back as he nipped and tugged and the sensitive flesh. Her grip getting stronger with every swipe of his tongue and graze of his teeth. As she tugged particularly hard on his hair at one point, he couldn't help but groan. His heart thudded painfully, as blood coursed hotly and violently through his veins.

"Yesss, that's right. Distract me my love. Make me forget." Draco purred as her actions spurred him on further. As soon as the words fell out of his mouth all her movements ceased. Confused he looked up her sweat glistening neck and at her beautiful face now with traces of the rosy blush he loved so much. He looked into her eyes, silver meeting golden-brown, only to find something odd about them.

"What's wrong my love?" he inquired, now watching as she slowly pushed him away and scooted further back.

Her responding answer was not what he expected.

"Is that all I am to you?" her tone seemed hurt, but Draco couldn't comprehend the meaning behind her words.

At his confused gaze, Hermione rephrased her question.

"Am I just a distraction? Is that all this means to you? Some cheap shag to help you forget?"

Draco was left shocked his mouth quite open, he knew he made a comical sight but there was nothing humorous about the situation. How could she even believe that he thought something like that. How could she even think or a minute that that was all he thought of her. Didn't she know that he needed her the way a person needed air? How he couldn't live without her.

With a laugh that was the completely opposite of humorous he slowly pulled back pinching his nose between his middle and pointer finger.

"Hermione how can you-"

"Because that's what you said Draco. You said ' _distract me'._ Is that all I am to you? I thought you wanted me as, as-"

"As what Hermione? My girlfriend? Well that's what you are, happy? So please-" He reached out to take her back in his arms, but by now the mood had completely diminished. Her expression remained the same, hurt and desolate as if he'd told her he'd just murdered her family. It was the same expression his mother took every time he said he had to leave. The expression that reminded him yet again, that he had fucked up, that he _was_ fucked-up.

"I just want you to love me Draco! To see me more than just someone who's there to comfort you whenever you need, only to be ignored the day. I'm tired of the secret meetings in the astronomy tower, all of the hiding and pretending. I want to be there for you, but not just when you need me to. I want to be there all the time. But clearly you don't feel the same way." She finished her tirade with a little laugh, strangely enough it sounded almost.. broken. As if she was giving up on him. No, he couldn't let her leave him as well. Without her he'd no longer have any reason to stay sane. Who knew what he would do?

"Please Hermione, I -"

"You what Draco? You need me to help you forget? You want me to be your distraction?" Another mirthless escaped her soft lips, "I love You Draco. Doesn't that mean anything to you? Tell me you love me too. I've waited for so long, I don't regret being there for you, but I just want more. _I need more._ Tell me you love me and I'll stay. I don't just want to be a distraction Draco, I want you to _love me."_ Draco could only stare at her dumbfounded. She loved him? How could she love someone like him? After knowing everything he'd done, all the pain he'd caused. _She loved him._

This was the first time anyone other than his mother had told him that. And for the first time ever, Draco had nothing to say back. No sharp retort, snide comment or even a simple statement. Nothing. He was utterly and completely befuddled. _She loved him._ The statement in itself sounded so absurd in his head. And all he could think of was, _How?_ And yet, he knew without a doubt that no matter how incomprehensible it was for him to accept how she felt, he could not deny that _he loved her too._ And the sudden realisation filled with him with joy. Yes, yes he loved her. _He loved her._ And just as he looked up to utter those three words for the first time in his life, he stopped.

Her disappointed gaze was still there, but it appeared as though she had caught on to his moment of silence as the potential for something more substantial from him, for now there was an underlying sheen of expectancy that awaited him as well in her stare. But his tongue had tied itself it seemed. He opened his mouth begging desperately for those words to come out. For anything, other than this bland silence. And still nothing.

 _'_ _No! Not now please. I love you! I love you Hermione!'_ He screamed inside his own head, trying desperately to get his mouth to cooperate. But his tongue remained tied.

And as he sat there kneeling, half clothed and utterly befuddled, his mouth gaping open eerily reminiscent of a fish, he could see that brief spark of hope in her eyes diminish. He knew because he had seen it so many times himself in his own eyes in distorted reflections, and his own mother's eyes as she accepted her fate. And it killed him to know that the one person who deserved more than any of that, now felt the same way. And only did he raise his head when he heard the muffled sob, and saw a blur of brown, red, and gold in his periphery, before the loud slam of the door registered in his mind and drew a cringe.

With a sound akin to a wall, he bent down at his back and screamed into his bent knee. Pale fingers, scoped out his platinum strands and tugged at them, harshly as he realised that he had let the one thing, perhaps the only thing, that kept him grounded get away from him again.

How easy it was to find someone who you wanted to be with, to spend minutes and hours with them talking about arbitrary things, laughing. Or even simply keeping silent with light strokes here and there and the occasional brush of lips against the forehead. How easy it was to lose yourself so completely in someone else. To memorise every crevice, of their being. Explore every edge and every curve. And yet when it came to saying those three words, how easy it was to let the fear take over. How easy it was to succumb to sheer cowardice.

And that's what he felt like.

A Coward.

 ** _I'm really sorry if this was like.. cringe-worthy. Last time I wrote something I was... quite young. And I hope I've improved since then, but ah I'm not so sure. Also this is unbeta'ed sooooooooooo heheheheheh._**

 ** _(Probably should have mentioned this at the top.. whoops?)_**

 ** _Anyways._**

 ** _I'll try posting the next chapter soon :)_**


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